Battalion Wars
by Makori
Summary: The darker side of war is never known until you experience it for yourself. Witness the blossoming relationship between a captain and a sergeant as they battle Tundrans, Xylvanians and who knows what else. Rated for language and violence.
1. Prologue

(A/N: WARNING: Updates will be slow here, but will speed up if I get enough reviews. Anyway, this is my version of Battalion Wars. Kind of a darker side to the whole Advance Wars series, if you will. It shows, in my opinion, the true face of war. Now, I'll try, if I can, to make each chapter as long as this, since I feel I can squeeze more story out of this concept. The only thing good about a story with loopholes is the fact that you can make whatever you want fit in those holes.)

**Battalion Wars**

The Old War

Prologue

0814 hours

Near the Tundran border

2 months before the peace treaty

The sunlight shone down across the landscape, pristinely covered in snow and pine trees, decorating the gray hills with enough beauty to almost disguise the signs of the battle that had occurred the night before. Mortar and artillery craters dotted the small space between two hills, which was also occupied by the charred wreckage of six small green tanks, decorated on the sides with white stars. Several bodies, dressed in green uniforms, lay around the wreckage, in the craters, everywhere. The furthest any of them got was one soldier who almost made it through the death trap, clambering over the log barricade at one end, only to be gunned down by assault rifles and machine guns. There he lay, the pieces of him that remained, a grim reminder of the butchery that had occurred to all of the soldiers.

However, not everything was dead.

Slowly, something black and metallic slid out from a small niche in the side of one of the hills, catching the sunlight and reflecting off it. It stayed there for several seconds before it withdrew. A split second later, the chatter of automatic fire ripped through the chilled air, and the niche began to widen as the bullets hammered it from the inside. Finally, the rocks fell away wide enough to let a man through, and the gunfire ceased. There was a second of grunting and scraping, a couple of muttered curses, and then a gloved hand poked itself out of the newly created fissure, grasping the rock before pulling the body it was connected to out.

Sergeant Rex Neils cursed once more as a rock fell from above him, landing right on his helmet. He looked up, sighting with his M19 carbine assault rifle. Nothing. It probably just fell loose because of the impacts of twenty bullets on the wall of rock beneath it.

He sighed, lowering his rifle, then scanned the area with his eyes. As soon as he had verified that nothing out there was alive, he turned back and gestured into the fissure, not daring to speak lest there were still Tundran snipers out there. A man in an orange mask, carrying an Inferno gun and a tank of the same color as his mask strapped to his back, stepped out next, looking around a little before shaking his head some. Three more rifle troopers stepped out after him, and then the final member of the platoon, a stubble bearing Corporal hefting a large M70 belt fed machine-gun. The assault trooper looked at the devastation around him, whistling as he beheld the grim spectacle before muttering "Looks even worse than it sounded." Several whispers of "Shh!" rang out, and the corporal quickly covered his mouth with an uncovered hand before whispering "Sorry…"

Quickly, all the soldiers sought cover behind the smoldering frame of one of the light tanks, and once they were all there, Neils began whispering.

"Alright, here's the situation. As it's fairly obvious to see, we're all that remains of the 68th."

"Yeah, no kiddin'," muttered the corporal with the flamethrower as he peered around the side of the tank. "We walked right into a bona fide deathtrap. Who knew the Tundrans were so smart, eh?"

Neils waved his hand for silence before continuing with "As such, it's our job to get to the nearest radio and tell them what the hell's going on. Anyone see which division it was that attacked us?"

One of the rifle troopers piped up with "I think I saw an eight on the side of a tank."

Once more, it became deathly silent. Every soldier had turned and was staring at the rifleman, eyes wide.

"What?" he asked, oblivious. The corporal with the machine gun whispered, frightfully "Are you sure you saw an eight, private? You aren't just messing with us?"

The private shook his head and replied "No, I'm not kidding. One of our spotlights got knocked around, and before the tank it was on got destroyed, it lit up the hill over there and I saw a tank with an eight on it moving into position."

Everyone cursed, and this time Neils didn't even bother hushing them. Instead, he muttered "Dammit. Then we got ambushed by the Iron Eighth. Those weren't artillery shells raining down on us. They were tank rounds. We gotta find a radio and report this. First, let's get our asses outta here."

1421 hours

Twenty miles from Fort Gridiron

Two days later

She could feel the wind biting at her face, could feel the snow falling on top of her, could feel the deathly cold…but she couldn't move. She managed to open one eye to see a blurry white landscape, with snow falling onto the blank powdery hills. Her head hurt. Actually, all of her hurt. She tried moving her arm and found that she couldn't. She sighed, wincing as the action sent needle-like pains through her lungs, then again as she breathed in razor-like arctic air. Boy, what a place to die. Out in the middle of nowhere.Her eye closed once more, one part of her patiently awaiting death, the other screaming at her to get up and get moving. The one waiting for death seemed to be winning.

Suddenly, another noise spliced through her headache and made her open her eye again. Footsteps. Then murmured voices. She moved her head a little, ignoring the pain as she tried to identify the source. She tried to open her other eye, only to find that it was frozen shut. The footsteps and voices grew steadily louder, and she could hear what they were saying. Fortunately, they were speaking in Frontier, so they weren't Tundran troops.

"Holy hell, it looks a lot worse up close."

"Damn, what the hell did the Tundrans do to this thing, carve it into Xylvanian cheese? There's enough holes here for that."

"Are there any survivors?"

"If we don't take shelter soon, there won't be any survivors, period."

"Comma, corporal it's our obligation to find any surviving troops. I outrank you, I have the right to shoot you for insubordination!"

"Exclamation point."

A few short, weak laughs sounded, which ended almost as soon as they began, before someone said "Alright, spread out, but don't go too far. We've got two priorities here: finding shelter and finding survivors. Keep your eyes out for both."

"Yessir."

"Got it, Sarge."

More footsteps, some that were almost right on top of her. She opened her mouth, feeling her cracked lips start to bleed, and tried to say something, anything that would get their attention. She couldn't though. Dehydration had taken its toll. Her head fell back down, not onto snow as she thought, but onto metal with a loud clank. The footsteps nearest her stopped. After a few seconds, they started again, slower, softer, and there came the click of someone working the slide of an assault rifle.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, they stopped again, and a voice yelled "Hey, Sarge! I found someone over here!"

In seconds, five sets of feet were crunching fast through the rapidly deepening snow drifts towards her and the soldier, finally stopping alongside whoever it was had called out for the sergeant. All six soldiers began speaking at once, making it hard to discern one voice from another.

"What the hell-"

"She's not moving-"

"Is she dead?"

"Hope not, she looks pretty-"

And then, from the jumble of murmurs came a sharp voice, the sergeant, she assumed.

"Someone go find some shelter, on the double! We need to get her to some heat!"

"What's the rush, Sarge?"

"Don't you realize who this is? Look at her collar!"

"Yeah, she's a captain. So what?"

There came the sound of cloth on metal and an "Ow!"

"You damned idiot! That's Brigadier Betty!"

"WHAT THE HELL?!" said four other voices simultaneously.

Instantly, five sets of feet scrambled off, yelling out possible shelter locations, and then reasons why the other's shelters wouldn't cut it. Meanwhile, Betty felt something being laid on her back, something warm. It took her a few seconds to place it, but she got it: a rifleman's jacket. She shifted, trying to move, but a firm hand pressed itself gently against her back, keeping her pinned down.

"Woah, easy, Brigadier. You're all banged up. Here, hang on a sec."

Something soft, or at least softer than the ground or the metal her head had been on, slid under her cheek, and her mind placed it as a sleeping pad. Her eye slid open once again to behold the blurry image of a soldier with buzz cut red hair and a bloody shoulder. He'd pulled his facemask down and taken his helmet off and was currently putting both onto her. She looked up at his gentle face, barely past his twentieth birthday, she guessed, and saw sea-green eyes, as well as a small trickle of blood running down his cheek from a cut on his temple. The blood and the cut had both frozen over, so he didn't seem to notice it. He wore a small smile, and he had a little bit of stubble, not very much, but it was still there.

Under the mask, her mouth opened once again, but this time she actually managed to whisper something. He didn't seem to catch it, though, because he frowned and leaned closer. She licked her cracked lips and whispered, once more "This must be heaven, because right now, you look like an angel."

His response was to grin and chuckle. Amazingly, she grinned too, though it was killing her thawing face.

2156 hours

They'd found shelter in the wreckage of the T-copter, in what remained of the cockpit. The belly of the copter had been blown apart, and there wasn't any point salvaging weapons or equipment from the soldiers who had been riding with Betty, since there wasn't anything left of them. No trace. The survivors must've beat it.

Betty had filled them all in, sipping some coffee made from Sergeant Neils' C-ration pack. She'd told him he needn't have bothered, but he put the camping cup up to her lips, and she couldn't turn it down. Meantime, the flame-trooper, she couldn't remember his name, was treating her wounds with a medi-pack they'd found next to the pilot's seat.

Currently, she was sitting in the copilot's chair, talking with the corporal while he bandaged her head.

"I don't really remember what happened. All I know is that we were on our way to Fort Gridiron to reinforce the garrison."

She looked up at the corporal, who cursed as the knife he was holding slipped and slit his finger.

"Dammit. Oh uh, sorry, ma'am. Uhm…hang on a sec while I fix this."

He rummaged around in the medi-pack, searching for some adhesive band-aids while Betty sipped some more coffee.

With a screech, the door opened, since the wall between the cargo bay and the cockpit was nearly intact, and Sergeant Neils stepped in, leading two others inside, one of them an assault trooper, the other a rifleman. He'd gone out to change the shifts, and the two other riflemen hidden outside had been given extra jackets to wear while they sat in their hidden positions. Never knew when a Tundran patrol might come packratting through.

Neils pulled his facemask down, brushing the snow out of his hair and moving around to warm himself up. Even though she'd offered them back, Neils had insisted she keep his jacket and helmet, but took back the facemask. Hey, there was only so much a soldier could take.

Neils stamped his feet, saying through chattering teeth "W-we've changed the shift. We should be good for the night. How you f-feeling, ma'am?"

Betty rolled her eyes, pushing the helmet a little further up. As it was two sizes too big for her, it kept slipping and getting in her eyes.

"I'm fine, sergeant. And please, call me Betty."

Neils smiled and shook his head a little, saying "Sorry, ma'am, no can do. I've had the authority beaten into me, as well as respecting authority. Plus, if I start getting friendly with you," he smacked the assault trooper, Corporal Price, who'd been ogling Betty's legs, over the head before continuing "Then these damned idiots'll get even friendlier, if you catch my drift."

She chuckled a little and shook her head. She got it, alright. She just thought the sergeant was overreacting a little.

As everyone settled down once more, digging into C-ration packs with disgust as to what they held and with excitement because it was food. The flame-trooper, Corporal Devin, she now remembered, finally said "Alright, Brigadier. Give yourself a little bit of rest, a few hot meals, and you should be ready to do handsprings in no time!"

Laughter rang through the small space, as everyone finally eased off the pressure of the situation over a cup of bad coffee, some poor-tasting food and four cigarettes each.

0139 hours

Next day

"INCOMING!"

**KA-BOOM!**

"Bastards! Eat this!"

_RAT-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA_

_**BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM**_

Suddenly, the cockpit was lit up with explosions and gunfire from outside. Everyone inside was scrambling to their feet, weapons being pulled from under blankets. They kept their guns close, not only in case they were attacked, such as now, but also to keep the mechanisms from freezing.

Swiftly, the door was opened, and all the soldiers, Betty included, streamed out, firing like hell. It seemed a patrol had managed to find their position, and judging from the heavy machine-gun fire, they'd brought a light tank with them.Neils was shouting orders over the gunfire as he emptied his M19 into the belly of a Tundran rifleman.

"Price! Give us some suppressing fire! Devin! Start going around the back of the tank! Torch the crew when you get there if you can! Everyone else, fire at will!"

And they were most certainly doing that. The assault had fallen into a shootout, with the Tundrans, hiding behind rocks, trees and logs, firing their AKM assault rifles into the wreckage. The other rifle trooper managed to kill one or two before his gun jammed, and he was unceremoniously gunned down.

"Dammit!" snarled Neils, pushing another magazine in. "Betty, grab his sidearm and fire!"

He seemed to have tossed the rulebook out the window, not only since he was commanding a captain, but also because he was addressing her informally, against his own rules.

Swiftly, she scrambled to do just as he asked, patting the rifleman down until she found his holster, yanking the pistol free. Now, she'd had some practice on a range, but she'd never actually been in live combat with just a handgun. Actually, she'd never been in live combat. However, she fired towards the flashes in the darkness, hoping to God she would hit something.

The fight took a turn for the worse, however, as Devin had made it around to the back of the light tank, and had managed to jump onto the turret, torching the gunner in the process. But the driver was no fool, and shot Devin dead with his pistol when the flame trooper tried to get in position over the hatch. However, the driver was forced to take the gunner's position, therefore stopping the tank's movement.

Meanwhile, Price was mowing the infantry down, and it was clear that the Tundrans were heavily considering making a run for it.

"Ha-ha! Whatsa matter, you sonsabitches? Aren't you going to fight anymore?"

Price cackled as he fired burst after burst into each rifleman, not aware that the turret of the tank was slowly turning towards him. Neils saw, however, and yelled out but it was too late. The turret fired, and Price turned at the sound only to disappear in a fountain of snow and dirt. Or was it blood? It was too dark for anyone to tell. However, Price's body came down after that, making a sickening crunch on the hard dirt.

And that was where Neils went, in a word, berserk. Betty watched the whole process, from him simply staring wide-eyed at Price's body, to his own body tensing up, fists clenched, limbs shaking. Suddenly, a wild look appeared in his eye and he screamed so horribly that the Tundran riflemen, who had been slowly advancing, decided they should retreat after all, and they did. Neils didn't let them go so easily, however, and emptied his rifle into their backs, dropping several of them, staining the snow red with blood. By the time his rifle clicked empty, only two soldiers had escaped. The tank fired again, knocking Neil over, and Betty could clearly see the bloody stump where, only seconds ago, his right arm had been. She stared on in horror, frozen to the spot, pistol held loosely in her hand, pointed at the ground. She'd never seen anything like this, and now, five people she'd known, had actually talked to only a few hours ago, were all dead. Slowly, her grip on the pistol loosened until it fell from her hand. Even more slowly, she fell to her knees, so dazed by the sights and sounds of the last few minutes that she didn't even feel it. Instead, her vision went dark, an explosion rang in her ears, and she remembered no more.

1426 hours

5 days later

Fort Gridiron MASH

Betty instantly knew she wasn't at the crash site when she came around. She was laying a soft bed, she was covered with blankets, and above all, it wasn't cold. It was actually very warm.

She opened one eye.

There was a ceiling above her head, with propeller fanlights hanging from it. She opened the other eye, looking around. She spied windows, and outside it a snowy landscape. Carefully, she raised herself, feeling something around her head that wasn't Sgt. Neils helmet. A needle sharp bolt of pure agony laced through her skull, and she shut her eyes, head in hands. As soon as the pain in her head finally settled to a dull throb, she opened her eyes again. There were other beds, with men laying in them, some asleep, some talking, and there were a few who were playing a game of cards. There were also a few men walking around, dressed in white and attending to the wounded soldiers. No doubt about it, she was in a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, aka a MASH.

She held up a hand to signal someone, and one of the doctors noticed, stepping over to her and saying "Well, well, Ms. Brigadier Betty finally awakes. I'm Dr. Hutchinson, how you feeling, ma'am?"

"Sore." she said, quietly, surprised to find her throat hoarse. "How bad am I, doc?"

The man leaned forward, lifting up her bandages to check the wound on her head before saying "Not too bad. In fact, you're healing quite quickly for someone in your state. Looks like the shrapnel wounds are healing up without a scar and-"

"Shrapnel?" Betty said, frowning. "What do you mean, shrapnel?"

The doctor shrugged, saying "Didn't you know? Had a piece of grenade stuck in your forehead, remarkable it didn't kill you. Anyway, we also had to treat all your limbs, almost lost a few fingers to frostbite. You're a lucky lady, Brigadier."

Hutchinson stood up, about to leave, when Betty remembered Neils and said "Wait, doc."

The man stopped, waiting, and Betty took a breath before asking "How did I get here?"

The doctor shrugged, saying "A patrol found you. I don't know the details, though, so don't ask me."

"Doc, one more thing. There was a soldier with me, a sergeant. How's he doing?"

Hutchinson pondered for a second before replying "Oh, fine. In fact, they're fitting him for a robotic right now. Then, he's going home if he wants to."

1207 hours

2 days later

"I'm so sorry."

"Hey, no need to be sorry, ma'am. It wasn't your fault. 'Sides, it's not as bad as it seems."

Betty looked up at Sergeant Neils eyes, full of pain and sorrow. Watching the remnants of his division being slaughtered in front of his eyes must be tearing him apart, but like the valiant soldier he was supposed to be, he carried on without showing it.

They were on opposite sides of a wall of glass, talking into microphones with Neils sitting in a 'clean room' an antiseptic recovery area for people who'd just gotten prosthetics. Of course, Neils didn't have the whole arm yet, just the base, which had been fitted onto the stump of his arm. Now that she looked at it, she felt that it wasn't really as bad as she had thought. There were no scars, and despite the horrific stories she'd heard about these sort of things, the operation looked to have gone off without a hitch. They'd bolted the base straight into the bones of Neils' arm after connecting the nerve endings with wires, which would operate the arm like normal nerve endings. However, instead of blood and flesh and bone, all Neils would have would be a hunk of stainless, insulated steel. The reason for the clean room was that although the doctors had made the base the right specifications, the wound would still have to heal around the small bit of metal that acted as the anchor into the bone, meaning the wound was still open. No risk doing an expensive operation if your patient was at risk of catching diseases.

"They tell me I can start using the arm in a few days, and that I'll be able to come out and walk around after a few weeks. No big activity until then, though. How're you doing?"

Betty smiled and briefly touched the gauze pad that had replaced the bandages before replying "Fine. Apparently, I caught a piece of steel with my skull, and the doctor says it's coming along nicely. I should be able to walk around without this after about two weeks. I won't be back and commanding for about a month, though."

Neils' eyes lit up, and he said, "Hey, that's great! We can recover together! Eat crappy food, play some card games…" he trailed off, and eventually, they simply stared at each other through the glass until Betty said "Yeah…thank you, ser-...Rex."

Neils blinked rapidly, so taken aback was he, and all he could say back was "For what?"

"For not leaving me behind. For staying with me and even giving up your supplies for me. I get the feeling not a lot of soldiers would've done that."

Neils snorted, responding "Are you kidding? Any soldier out there, even if all he had was a cigarette and a hat would've given 'em to you. You don't realize how much you mean to all the boys out there. If anything, you oughta be thanking yourself. You're the hero here, Briga-...Betty."

1453 hours

Betty was laying in her bed, currently reading a newspaper titled **The DMZ Enquirer**. Apparently, the peace talks were going quite well, and new developments were being made as Tsar Gorgi finally decided it was time to pass down the control of the Territories to his son, Marshal Nova. Betty had met Nova once or twice before at other peace talks, and although he had some good ideas in mind, he was still all for keeping the Tundran military active. It didn't really surprise her, the Western Frontier and Tundran Territories had known only war for so many years that simply putting their military out of commission while their foe still had its own would seem hellishly foolish.

As she continued to read, she heard the door to the Post-Op ward open, but didn't really pay any attention to it. Corpsmen, doctors and soldiers came through all the time, this was no big thing. She realized how wrong she was when a voiced yelled out "BETTY!" Her head snapped up just in time to catch a flash of yellow plaid zooming towards her. Next thing she knew, General Herman himself, four star 'Ironsides' himself had her in a killer bear hug. She spotted Colonel Austin over his broad back, dressed up in his neat and pressed Frontier uniform, grinning sheepishly at her, two heavy coats slung over his arm.

Finally, when the short General let her go, Betty asked "What are you two doing here? You can't just be seeing little old me, right?" She was grinning, feeling happier than she had in what seemed like forever. They talked for hours, Herman telling her the progress of the war, Austin informing her jokingly about all the paperwork she'd left behind for him to do, etc. etc. until they were all laughing and telling old stories like the good times would never end. Finally, however, they settled down enough to get serious.

"So, Betty, how ya doin'?" Herman always had a fatherly attitude towards the young captain, and this seemed to have doubled in her short absence.

"Well, the doc says I can start walking around in a while. Bandages don't come off 'til then, though, and then I get to have a month of R&R in this nice, luxurious hotel."

"Really?" asked Austin, grinning. "Where is this hotel?"

Betty grinned back and replied "Here."

They all laughed again, and it was just like back at HQ on coffee break. However, it didn't last long. Finally, the question she was dreading came around: "What happened out there?"

And she just poured it out. Every detail from when the T-copter took off, to the gap in her memory, to Neils' squad finding them, through the assault and ending at her second mental blank. Sure, it didn't sound like much, but to her it was something she'd never forget. Herman and Austin sat through it all, listening with rapt attention, Herman's mouth hanging open, Austin's set in a grim line.

When she was finished, an uneasy silence filled the air, and Betty bit her lip, unsure of what to say. Herman was the first to break the silence, thank god, and asked "And this boy, is he still here?"

Betty nodded, saying "Yeah. He's in the clean room. They're fitting him with a robotic."

Austin grimaced at that and rubbed his leg. His entire left leg had been blown off by a heavy machine-gun round, back when he had been in the air force. He knew what that was like.

Herman plowed on with "Well, I'm gonna go give that boy a medal. He deserves it. Hell, y'know what, better yet, I'm gonna make him commander of this new division we're puttin' together, the 74th. From what you told me, all he needs is a little bit a' trainin', and he'll be a bona fide field commander!"

With that, Herman got up and trotted over to the nearest MASH staff member to consult the location of the clean room. Austin shook his head, setting himself in the chair Herman had just vacated, taking off his hat before smiling and asking "You ok, Betty?"

Austin had lost both his sisters in a mass assault on his home town, and as such he'd made Betty his own surrogate sibling. He always knew when something wasn't right with her.

Betty sighed, shaking her head as she replied "I dunno. I just…you know I never got a field commission, right? I just went through military college and got lucky. I've never seen how it is on the field. I guess that's the main reason why I've always managed to stay peppy. Well, I finally got my taste of the field, and I gotta say, it's a hell of a lot different than I thought."

Austin was taken aback. Betty almost never swore, and hearing such words out of her mouth almost made him ask this strange girl who she was and what she'd done with Betty, that's how startling it was.

Betty continued. "I'm not too sure what's gonna happen next, but all I can say is, it's never gonna be the same for me. Because now I know what's actually going on down there."

1024 hours

Fort Gridiron training area

7 weeks later

General Herman and Colonel Austin had decided to set up a boot camp at Fort Gridiron in order to train the incoming recruits from the nearest town, Nomad's Basin. Or, at least, that's what they said. Actually, after visiting Betty for so long, they simply set one up so they could create a secondary command post there, that way they wouldn't have to travel so far to see her. Of course, both Betty and Sergeant Rex Neils had recovered fairly quickly. Neils seemed to have adapted quite well to the robotic arm, but was still having phantom pains, where he could feel his arm itching and would reach over and scratch it only to realize that his arm was metallic. Betty's head healed with no visible scarring, and as such, she was put back into command as soon as the doctor said she could take the bandages off. During the weeks they recovered together, they spent every second possible in each other's presence. Betty, it turned out, was quite the lucky lady when it came to poker, and she cleaned everyone else out at almost every game. Neils would engage in drinking games at the local bar, and won so much that he was pronounced the Man with the Liver of Steel. Betty got a kick out of this and had laughed it up for hours on end until Neils finally asked, dangling the corporal who started the name by his ankles, to cut it out. The soldiers did so, and it was forgotten.

Two days before they were to go back on active duty, a new issue of **The DMZ Inquirer** was released. Right there, smack dab on the front page, were the words "Peace Talks Breakthrough!" "Tundran Territories Under Marshal Nova's Control!" and "War of All Wars Finally Over?"

Unfortunately, Betty was shipped out right after that to get back to commanding. Now that the war was declared over for now, all officers were training their men in all the newest tactics, units were receiving the newest hardware, and seven whole divisions were being assembled to guard the DMZ, a stretch of plain dirt road right smack dab on the border between the Tundran Territories and the Western Frontier.

It was an entire week before Neils, bored as hell and lonely without Betty to laugh things up with, was called upon by a messenger. And so, it was with a heavy heart that he stepped onto the obstacle course, M19 in hand, waiting for his commanding officer to contact him via radio so he could finally begin his new career as a field commander. Shame though, he thought as he waited, ignoring the cold from the snowfall around him, that he should get his commission right when the war was over.

Suddenly, his headset began crackling with static, and a voice began speaking from behind the static cloud. All he caught was the commander and his name Neils. He held his hand up to his headset, adjusting the frequency until the static was gone and said, clearly "Sir, please repeat. Wrong frequency."

The voice that replied shocked him hard enough to make him drop his rifle to the ground.

_"Come in Commander, this is Brigadier Betty speaking."_

"Betty?!"


	2. Combat Patrol

(A/N: I must apologize. My access to the names of the vehicles and weapons, so if they do not match up, I'm sorry, I can't help it. The other two files on my Battalion Wars game belong to my siblings, and I'm heavily reluctant to restart my own file. Anyway, consider yourselves lucky. I just got bored. I need reviews people! Criticize me if you must, but I need feedback people, please! Also, the dialogue and action will be very different. If any of you have seen her, this Brigadier Betty behaves less like the cheerleader in the first BW and more like, but not exactly like, the one in BW2.)

**Battalion Wars**

The Tundran Campaign

Combat Patrol

1024 hours

Fort Gridiron Communications Room

Betty grinned as she watched Neils through not only the video cameras mounted up in the training area, but also as she looked at his face from the camera in his helmet. Having gotten the right radio frequency, she'd turned it on, and confused sea-green eyes stared out at her. In this way, she could watch his face and monitor his emotional status, asserting whenever the morale and courage of the soldier was dropping. The view could be changed at any time to look out and see whatever Neils was also seeing through the second camera on the rim of his helmet. In this way, it cut down on errors between COs and commanders. Betty smiled even wider at the settling confusion in the sergeant's eyes, then continued with the briefing.

"Sergeant Neils, Frontier Command has chosen you to lead a reconnaissance patrol on our border with the Tundran Territories. It's been a while since you saw combat, so I'm going to take you back through your paces before you head out on patrol, make sure your arm won't fall of or anything. You tested it yet?"

She watched the eyes close halfway and the camera tilted as Neils shrugged.

_"A little. Mostly on a firing range, though."_

Betty's smile slid off her face as she switched the view away from those beautiful eyes, towards the obstacle course in front of him.

"Alright, well, let's get you through your paces Cowboy, and see if you still got what it takes to be part of this patrol."

Fort Gridiron Training area

Neils' jaw dropped. Well, considering it didn't have very much room in the facemask, it didn't go very far.

Oh no she didn't, he thought.

_"Well, getta move on, Cowboy!"_ the radio crackled.

Oh yeah, she did.

Neils grinned under his mask and, gripping his M19, surged forward, towards the first obstacle, a short wall of barbed wire. Even with all his equipment on, he leapt over it easily, landing on the other side without touching it at all. Next up were two walls, one a little higher than the other, and both higher than the barbed wire. Neils grinned again and leapt over the first with ease. The second one was trickier, and he had to switch the gun from his right hand to his left in order to grab the wall with his robotic. It held beautifully, not even any strain on it at all.

"Cool," Neils whispered to himself before he effortlessly launched himself over. That's when he realized he may have launched a little too hard. It was easy to see by the fact that he not only soared over the wall, but also over the barbed wire on the other side and also over the chain link fencing separating the obstacle course from the firing range. And of course, he landed, right on his stomach, with an embarrassing grunt of pain as he had the air knocked out of his lungs.

Unfortunately, Betty heard over the radio. Currently, she was rewinding the footage again just to make sure she wasn't dreaming. There was no way a normal robotic could've done that. What the hell was in that arm of his? She smiled, realizing the perfect opening for a wisecrack straight to the ego.

"Whatsa matter, Cowboy? Are you that outta shape?"

_"No, no, I just landed a little further than I wanted to."_ came the reply.

Neils slowly struggled up, freeing himself from the snow and brushing the frost from his helmet, clothes and gun. The first thing that he saw other than white were six target dummies. Sure, they had several bullet holes in them, but Neils figured that if he shot them up enough, they would fly apart. In fact, it seemed that he'd read Betty's mind.

_"Alright, Cowboy, blast apart those old target dummies. We were going to trash them later anyways, and I figured, why not save our boys some time? Now, start firing and show me you've got what it takes for this patrol!"_

Neils didn't need any further incentive, and his M19 switched hands once more a split second before the staccato rat-a-tat of gunfire ripped into one of the dummies, tearing chunks out of it before the whole thing was blasted apart. Without lifting his finger from the trigger, Neils swung the gun around to the next one, managing to blast half of it to bits before he had to reload, and by that time, the rest of it simply fell to the snow. Holding the barrel of the gun with his left hand, Neils snapped a fresh magazine in, mentally clocking his time. Thanks to his robotic, he could pull an empty magazine out, get a new one in and rack the first round in roughly half the time it took for a normal rifleman to accomplish the same task. What the hell did the docs **not** put in? The other dummies were quickly reduced to chunks of foam and tatters of cloth, leaving Neils clear to rush through the next two gates, out of the training area and into the open space of the Tundran wilderness.

As soon as he passed the guardhouse, Neils paused, pulled down his facemask to expose his nose to the biting cold, taking a deep whiff before letting his breath out in a cloud of fog that dissipated rapidly. God, how he'd missed this. The openness, the fresh air, the cold even. Staying cooped up in that clean room, and then restricted to the Post-Op ward of the MASH had driven him to the point of insanity. Now, however, he was back out where was supposed to be. Man couldn't survive very long inside a building without going outside, and for a soldier who spent all his time in the field, that had been plain torture. He opened his eyes again and looked around, stepping forward off the snow and into the grassy pass. Pine trees, flowers and little clumps of frost threw the colors and light around into a single glowing visage. It was such a beautiful picture that he almost forgot why he was here.

Suddenly, movement caught his eye, and he crouched down just in time to hear a single bullet whine past his head. A silencer, extreme range; that meant a sniper rifle. He followed the movement of the soldier as he pressed a hand up to the side of his cheek, pressing the 'Talk' button underneath the rim of his helmet as he whispered "Contact. One soldier, on foot, equipped with a sniper rifle and camaflouge."

He could hear Betty typing away, then his radio crackled and her voice said _"What's this joker doing in Frontier territory? He must be a Tundran spy! After him!"_

Neils set off at a crouching run, careful to keep down in the grass, which turned out to be a wise decision, as another bullet zipped past him, ripping through the tall blades around him. He spotted a small flash of what must've been sunlight off of gunmetal and brought his rifle up, loosing a brief burst of lead that was cut short by the clack that meant empty. He cursed to himself again, reloading quickly before he rolled down an embankment, springing up, expecting to find the spy drawing a bead on his chest with that rifle. Instead, all he found was a small ditch that curved off around a crumbling Tundran wall. He pressed the radio button again, frowning as he whispered "I lost him. Looks like he took off down a canyon."

_"You sure? Any trace of him?"_

Neils looked around, but all he could see were a few smudged boot prints and two shell casings.

"Yeah, I can't find any good tracks. I think he might be avoiding the mud, walking only on the grass."

_"Dammit, this one's a slippery customer. Keep looking, Cowboy, he can't have gone far."_

Neils brought his hand back down to his rifle, keeping it steady as he approached the corner, then rolled around it, brining his gun up. What he found made him frown instead of fire, however. Several fuel barrels were strapped together, holding up a makeshift stand, on top of which a large cone sat, wired to a monitor that was sitting on top of the barrels, powered by a Tundran Light Recon battery. He pressed the Talk button again, saying "Betty, found something. Looks like a makeshift listening post. I don't see any vehicle treads, so this things was brought in by the spy himself. That or he's got some backup. Which makes you wonder just how long this bastard's been here." He heard a squishy sort of crunching from the radio, which meant Betty was chewing the end of her pencil again. She always did that when she was thinking hard.

_"Hmm. Good point. Destroy any listening posts you may find, but keep moving. That spy's still on the run."_

Neils sent back an affirmative before raising his M19 and loosing a burst that blew out the monitor and battery. Engineers would have to come down later and dismantle it properly, but it would do for now. Quickly, Neils set off once more at a run, not caring about sound any more. As he approached a small pond, he spotted two red forms tethered to some trees up on the hillside. As he got closer, he finally saw the Tundran Fist emblazoned on the two spy balloons, and, not bothering to stop, he brought up his rifle and emptied the cliff into the hillside, popping the unmanned aircraft and sending them straight into the pond, making large splashes as they landed. Neils continued, sprinting around another corner only to find…nothing. There was a wide canyon stretching past a frozen lake, with several trees and ruins scattered here and there. A closer look, however, showed more. Two other listening posts, most complex and obviously meant for longer range, sat badly hidden in some ruins, and two larger spy balloons were tethered at a higher altitude than the previous ones over the lake.

Neils groaned and finally stopped, pressing the Talk button and saying "Betty, you're not gonna believe this." He told her about each of the devices, pointing the camera on his helmet towards each one. He heard it whirring and clicking, meaning she was taking pictures for future reference. These were obviously new technology, and the more they learned about Tundran tech, the easier it would be to eliminate it. Neils destroyed everything, blasting apart the listening posts with grenades and sending the spy balloons plummeting towards the ice, where the equipment in them smashed on the hard frost. As he hurried along, Neils could vaguely see tire tracks in the mud, which meant that there had indeed been vehicles up to this point, which meant that there most definitely was a larger Tundran presence here than he'd previously supposed. Things kept getting worse…

Finally, Neils topped the hill, only to spot a flash of a figure dressed in forest camaflouge dashing around the corner down at the bottom of another, which turned into a narrow canyon. He was lightly equipped, which explained how he could move so fast. Swiftly, Neils leapt down the hills, sliding here and there but no worse for the wear. However, as he rounded the corner, he spotted something, or someone, laying in the grass ahead. Quickly, he dashed forward, pressing the radio as he did so, saying breathlessly "Betty, we gotta man down!"

As he slid up next to the downed soldier, however, Neils knew it was hopeless. The man had been shot through the back of the head by a large caliber round, blowing off his helmet and dropping him before he even knew he was under fire. Neils pressed the radio button again and said "Betty, I have one Frontier fatality. He got shot in the back of the head. Are there any companies in the area?"

He heard Betty frantic typing and as she looked up the information, he thought to himself, That son of a bitch is going to pay for this.

The radio crackled again, and he heard _"Yeah, got it. Alpha Company should be straight ahead. There're five, sorry, four riflemen. They should help you catch your man. Problem is, I don't think they're up and moving."_

Neils smiled and responded "Don't worry, Betty, I'll get 'em up."

5 minutes later

"C'mon, move it!" Neils snarled as the last one finally stood up. Typical of Frontier soldiers, they'd ignored him when he'd come calling, not caring what rank he was. Unfortunately for them, that meant that Neils had the jurisdiction to drag them out of their tents and sock them in the gut until they cooperated. Needless to say, they quickly changed their minds.

Swiftly, they all started up the hill towards an old archway. Every soldier in Alpha Company was surprised to find, however, that they were blocked by a recently built wooden gate. Neils simply nodded, as this confirmed his suspicions. One of the soldier had a few old Tundran explosives they'd found, and Neils had him wiring them up when his radio crackled and Betty's voice filtered in.

_"Hey, Cowboy, now that I look at these scans again, I think I see a Tundran camp just ahead of you. Be careful."_

Neils grinned and pressed the radio, saying "Betty, aren't I always?"

It was, at that exact second, that the explosives went off. Luckily, the soldier had realized that he'd accidentally armed them and gotten clear in time. The gate, however, was finished. Fortunately, the archway still held, even though the barricade itself was now in splinters.

_"What the hell was that?!"_

Neils chuckled and replied "Betty, relax. That's just our way in. Neils out."

The squad hustled through the archway, then up the hill after that, finding the faint patterns of a dirt road. However, it seemed the Tundrans knew that they were there, for when the first soldier poked his head over the ridge, a bullet smashed into the rock next to him, and he ducked back down, yelling "Shit! Sarge, they-"

"I heard. Step aside, Private, and follow me."

Neils waited for a second before launching himself over the edge. After that, he didn't waste a moment sprinting down the hill, firing his M19 at the red blurs he caught every now and then. His gun clicked empty, but he heard more gunfire from behind him, which showed that the other soldiers had indeed followed his example and slid down the steep hill. Neils tripped, rolling in a cloud of dust to the bottom of the hill. However, his years worth of experience of being tossed around propelled him back to his feet in an instant, and his robotic arm was quickly reloading the rifle once more before he was firing again.

And then, suddenly, it was quiet. Not even the birds were chirping now.

Neils looked around. The four other riflemen with him were still standing, and it looked like Tundran marksmanship was as bad as it ever was, for no one had been hit. He looked back towards the makeshift camp, built from even more ruins. Aside from the two Tundran bodies, one tent, packed with ammo, was the only thing he spotted. It was sitting right next to a barbed wire fence, and Neils frowned, starting forward before beckoning to the other soldiers.

It seemed his hunch was right. The Tundrans always placed explosives around their Prisoners Of War, so that in case the base was stormed they could simply blow their prisoners sky high. Ruthless, yes, but the Frontier also practiced something similar, gunning down their Tundran prisoners at point blank if things took a turn for the worse.

As the squad came round the ruins, a voice cried out "Oh, thank God!"

There were two Frontier men inside the barbed wire. One of them wasn't moving, and judging by the frost covering his green form, there was nothing could be done for him. But the other soldier was still alive, and it was he who had yelled. Currently, he was standing and yelling "Help! Please, let me out!"

"Easy, soldier, we'll get you out of there. Just get away from that ammo dump. Get over by your friend there."

The Frontier soldier did as he was told, ducking down beside the frozen corpse. With a signal, five M19s fired, tearing through wood and canvas until the ammo dump detonated, clearing the barbed wire. While the group's medic checked on the newly liberated prisoner, Neils radioed Betty as he inspected the camp. Over in the corner, covered in frost from a period of no use, was a green Light Recon. It looked like little more than a buggy with a machine-gun on it, but he still recognized it as one of the Frontier's.

"Betty, I got a scout here, says he and his buddy were captured while looking the area over. One of them's dead to frostbite, but the other might have a chance. Any MIAs?"

More typing, followed by _"Yeah, I got 'im. Looks like he's been missing for a month. Aerial flyovers never found them. It was only a matter of time before Command dispatched a squad to look into it. Can you see if he can still drive, maybe get you over that hill? I'm getting some strange readings on the scans. It may just be the weather, but I don't want to take any chances here. Too much weird stuff's going on."_

Neils asked the scout, who, luckily enough, was the driver, and the soldier confirmed that, yes he could drive him over the hill. So, without further delay, Neils and the scout saddled up, Neils in the gunner spot, and started to rev off. Alpha company had orders to head back to Fort Gridiron and give a full report on what they had seen. The Recon, slightly faster than what Neils was used to, chugged up the hill, and the scout yelled "Hang on!" right before the vehicle crashed through a barbed wire fence. Neils cursed as a length of wire got tangled around his robotic wrist, and he shook it off, yelling "Dammit, watch it next time!"

But, as a response, the Recon suddenly stopped hard, knocking the breath out of Neils as he was thrown against the back of the vehicle. As soon as he could get oxygen back into his lungs again, Neils stood up, yelling "What the hell was that? You could've killed m-"

But as he looked up, his jaw dropped, and his sentence went unfinished. His fist, which he had raised above his head in order to rant and rave, slowly dropped back to his side at the sight before him.

The spy they'd been hunting for was rushing away into a forest clearing that sat next to a dirt road, looking over his shoulder every now and then. However, the stupid son of a bitch was laughing! And he had good reason to, as well. Assembled before the two Frontier soldiers was an entire Tundran armored division, made up of no less than forty Tundran riflemen, as well as more than enough Tiger light tanks to take down Fort Gridiron being unloaded from the last few T-copters, which were just taking off. Coming straight at them down the dirt road were at least ten Grizzly heavy tanks, with more infantry reinforcements following.

"Oh shit…" Neils murmured, pressing the radio as he whispered "Betty, are you getting this?"

The radio crackled, and Betty replied, almost as quietly, as if she thought they could hear her, _"Oh yeah. That's…a lot of soldiers. It looks like we've stumbled onto something big here."_

As Tundran gunships began to come into his view from over the mountains, Neils' headset crackled once more as an accent tinted voice declared _**"Prepare yourselves for defeat, decadent Frontier Cowboys!"**_

Betty recovered faster than Neils, however, and she quickly replied _"Tsar Gorgi, your presence here is a clear, full-blown violation of the cease-fire. What the hell are you doing? And how did you get this frequency?"_

_**"Making war, Brigadier Betty. Isn't this what Frontier Command has been waiting for? Besides, Frontier Command has used this frequency for years. It was too easy to hack into your computers and alter the data being fed to you."**_

Neils listened to the exchange with his mouth open and his eyes fixed on the tanks as they got closer and closer. What the hell was going on here? Betty seemed to read his thoughts.

_"But…I thought Marshal Nova wanted peace!"_

That's exactly what Neils thought as well, although the mass of guns in front of him told him otherwise. Tsar Gorgi certainly seemed to agree with him.

_**"I think the assembled might of my personal army speaks for the Marshal's intentions, Brigadier! We will wipe this land free of your capitalist filth, starting with that Sergeant-Commander!"**_

Suddenly, one of the Grizzlies fired, and the round landed right next to the Recon, knocking it over. Neils, having been standing, was thrown free, but the scout was trapped in the roll cage-like cab. Neils grabbed his assault rifle and made for the buggy, but the scout was suddenly yelling, "No! No! Get outta here, Sarge!"

That made Neils pause long enough for the tank to fire again, blasting the ruins right next to him, and he decided it was time to make a run for it into the trees. He radioed Alpha company as he went, explaining the situation in four words;

"Tundran armor! Fall back!"

Fort Gridiron Communications Room

Betty watched as Rex Neils made a frantic beeline for the trees, the only place he had a chance of living through the attack. The camera in the Recon, having been quickly repaired, was still playing an upside down view of the entire column moving forward. Suddenly, the camera cut, and all she had was static. She switched to Neils' camera, but the picture was gone. The lens must've been broken. She still had the radio, however, and she could hear his frantic breathing as he ran along, hear the crash and crack of the foliage as he rushed through. She bit her lip, praying to whatever got that was up there that he got to safety.

In the meantime, however, something had to be done. She quickly switched from radio over to telephone, punching in a number only two other people knew. After two rings, the person on the other end picked up with _"What the hell, Betty? Y'know I hate this cell-phone thingamajig."_

"Herman," she began. "We have a situation. A bad one."

(Once more, please give me reviews!)


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